It was Jude.
“Is that agreed, then?” Patel glanced between Jude and Warren.
Warren met Jude’s gaze, and Jude gave a small nod. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll do it.”
Patel rose to her feet. “Good. We’ll brief you fully in the next couple of days. Cover, comms, what to expect inside. Until then, your job is to keep everything normal. Go to work. Stick to routine. Don’t raise suspicion. By the weekend, we could have this wrapped.” She dropped her gaze to Warren, sharp as a pin. “And it looks like you just got your job back.”
He furrowed his brow. “I’m on the op?”
“No, Warren.” Patel buttoned her coat. “To maintain cover, you need to be in that school in the next thirty minutes. Worthbridge still need teaching how to throw a ball, considering their recruitment pipeline is about to collapse under our feet. That’s your role. Nothing more.” She turned back to Jude, softer but still direct. “Thank you, Mr Ellison. What you’ve agreed to, very few would. That makes you a modern-day hero, whether you believe it or not. We’ll see ourselves out.”
Patel and Naomi scooted past, Naomi giving Warren a slight nod and mouthedcall me. Warren nodded. Then the front door closed with a solid thud, silence ringing in its wake. Patel and Naomi’s footsteps crunched down the path, a car door slammed, then the low hum of an engine faded into nothing.
Warren moved to the sofa, shoulders heavy. He could feel Patel’s words clinging to him, sharp as glass. Jude agreeing. The wire. The bloody party.Hero. Patel had called him a modern-day hero. All Warren could think wasbait.
Across from him, Jude perched on the edge of the table, staring at the mugs as if they might hold answers. Warren’s chest burned at the sight. This was why he’d fought Patel so hard. Why he hadn’t trusted Glasshouse either. People like Jude weren’t meant to be evidence. They were meant to be protected.
“Jude…” His voice came out low, rougher than he’d meant. The single word carried too much. Fear. Frustration. Grief he hadn’t earned.
Jude slid onto the sofa beside him. “I said yes. And I meant it.”
“I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
That made Jude look at him, and what Warren saw gutted him. Not defiance. Not fear. Something heavier. Acceptance. A resolve Warren had only ever seen in soldiers who knew they weren’t walking back from a fight.
“Hey.” Jude gave a small, crooked smile tugging at his mouth. “It’s not the end of the world.”
“Feels like I’m sending you into it.”
Jude slid his hand into Warren’s and squeezed. “Then don’t think of it like that. Think of it as me getting to rewrite my history.”
Warren turned their hands, laced their fingers tight, and pulled him closer until Jude’s shoulder pressed firm againsthis chest. His heartbeat thudded hard beneath Warren’s palm, fragile and stubborn all at once.
And in that moment, Warren knew he couldn’t let Patel see Jude as a piece on a board. Couldn’t let Radley see him as leverage. He’d risk his warrant card, his career, his life if he had to.
Because Jude wasn’t evidence.
He washis.
So he brought their hands up to kiss Jude’s knuckles, “And I’ll make sure you reach that sea.”
chapter twenty-three
Reference and Evidence
The bell split the air, sharp and shrill, signalling the end of the lesson.
The end of the week.
The end of Jude’s ability to keep putting it off.
Time had run too fast. Every day had been an act, every hour a performance. Standing in front of a classroom, feigning calm, when inside he choked on nerves. The weekend loomed like a storm cloud. Radley’s party. The wire. The trap.
His throat tight, words kept snagging mid-sentence, and his hands couldn’t warm up no matter how much he rubbed them together. He’d catch himself glancing at the door, the windows, shadows in the corners. Waiting.
Because Callum was out.
Patel had assured him Reid was locked down in a safe house, tag on his ankle, phones stripped, police on him night and day.“He can’t take a piss without us logging it.”
